PlanetFargo

The Dangerous World of Software Piracy

Fountain Valley, California. The sun began its laborious ascent over the mountains to the East, and a shimmering purple haze illuminated our target: Fry's Electronics. With a snap, Capt41n Cr4ckz0rz shut his looking glass and turned to his crew. "Arr, look at 'er! Shining in the morning sun, ripe for the picking, big and bloated with ph4t l3wt and m4d war3z!"

A cheer rose up from the pirates, and in that hazy morning light I couldn't imagine the terror the site of the flapping pirate banner brought deep into the souls of Fry's finest. As if in a dream, or a horrible slow-motion movie sequence, they tried to slam shut the metal cages that protected their superstore's glass windows. The first pirate volley hit before they were prepared -- glass shattered, pyramids of soda pop displays burst into hissing fury, and tables full of discount VHS videos splintered into a million plastic pieces and whirling tendrils of black tape. The pirates, I noted, shot obsolete 14-inch monitors from the barrels of their guns.

"Starboard turn!" our Capt41n barked. Our ship drifted over, smashing an SUV and forcing a Honda Civic over to its side as our ship mauled a devastated, burning swath through the parking lot. By the time our port broadside was lined up for a second volley, the superstore was already prepared to fire back. Alarms blared, aproned employees scurried for their muskets, and with an earth-shaking roar the guns of Fry's Electronics opened fire back at the pirate vessel. I saw our men cut down where they stood. Fry's was loading their cannons with any surplus stock they had -- car stereos, candy bars, peanuts, and quite often salespeople who would explode like blood sausages upon crashing into our decks. I had always wondered why I could never find any help when I needed it -- now I know!

But our second volley turned the tide of the battle, and I watched as Fry's loading dock crashed open in a cloud of debris. Confused workers started bailing out of the hole. "Prepare the boarding party!" Capt41n Cr4ckz0rz demanded. Within moments, ignoring the hail of enemy fire, shopping carts filled with software pirates waving swords and pistols began snaking their way across the pockmarked asphalt toward the retail megastore, dodging the remains of smouldering television sets as they went. The shopping cart wheels jammed with snakelike wisps of audio and videotape, but the carts nevertheless made it to the loading docks and terror flowed forth like water. Within twenty minutes the store was ours.